


Sasori's Haunted House

by jashinist_feminist



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Dates, Haunted Houses, Kissing, Knives, M/M, Modern Era, OOC, Puppets, Taxidermy, Victorian Architecture, Victorian Dildos, hidan is an idiot, sasori is a mortician, torture instruments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 09:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15603108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jashinist_feminist/pseuds/jashinist_feminist
Summary: Ever since Sasori caught Hidan sneaking into the mortuary where he works "to look at dead bodies," the idiot has not stopped asking him out on dates. Deciding that he needs to call Hidan's bluff, Sasori invites Hidan on a date to a haunted house full of surprises...





	Sasori's Haunted House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shipcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipcat/gifts).



> hey guys! this is my commission piece for my lovely girl Kitty <3 I hope you like your piece, kitty, and that I've done the pairing justice!
> 
> I hc Sasori living in a creepy house like this in most of my aus, but haven't yet had the chance to introduce his home in any of my other fics. I was making a Pinterest board for inspo on his house and talking to Kitty&Shadow via discord, which is where Kitty gave me the commission for this fic.
> 
> There isn't a lot of sasohida/hidasaso content in the fandom, which is a pity bc they have the potential to be very interesting together, since Hidan is immortal and Sasori seeks immortality. Personally I didn't see it for a while due to their clashing personalities, but I enjoyed this challenge. thank you kitty!

“Hey gorgeous!”

Sasori was interrupted from his morning fix of caffeine by the grinning face of the idiot who had taken to following him around and asking for dates. He allowed his gaze to flicker upright, away from the savoury-scented beverage enclosed in the plastic cup, to witness a pair of wide magenta eyes shining at him. The idiot’s silvery hair was combed back surprisingly tidily, gently brushing against his leather jacket.

“I don’t know who you’re talking to,” Sasori dismissed, attempting to step around him. He held his coffee balanced in one hand, praying the idiot wouldn’t make him drop it.

The idiot’s shoulders slumped as Sasori slipped past, but then he perked back up again. “You, of course!”

Sasori thought of his pale complexion, bagged eyes and mussed red hair, and did not think of himself as being ‘gorgeous’ in any shape or form. He began to walk at a rapid pace, the coffee lapping dangerously against the edges of his cup with his strides.

Unfortunately, the idiot had longer legs and kept up easily with Sasori’s frantic pace.

“How about you and I go someplace and get to know each other better?” he asked Sasori, as they walked side by side.

Sasori groaned inwardly.

Sasori had first met the idiot one night where, working late at the mortuary where he was the head mortician, he’d fallen asleep at his desk writing up reports. He’d been awoken by a disturbance, and spotted one of the windows of his office was left hanging open. He climbed up, closed it, then turned around to sit back down, only to meet the idiot.

After Sasori angrily yelled at the idiot for startling him, it turned out that the idiot had snuck in because he “wanted to see the dead bodies.” When Sasori asked why, the idiot looked sheepish and admitted that he “thought it would be cool.” When Sasori yelled even more angrily at the idiot, that this was a mortuary, not a “corpse viewing party,” the idiot then stared at Sasori, before announcing that for a mortician, Sasori was “goddamn flaming sexy.”

Sasori ordered the idiot out, but not before the idiot asked for Sasori’s number, the link to his Instagram, and even Sasori’s LinkedIn profile. Sasori re-opened the window, shoved the idiot back out of it, and bolted it.

Since then, the idiot had taken to popping up wherever Sasori happened to be and asking him on dates. If Sasori wasn’t a connoisseur of creepy things already, he would have been thoroughly creeped out. As it happened, the idiot, or rather, Hidan, as he claimed his name was, was more of an annoyance.

“No,” Sasori scolded. “I don’t date idiots.”

“Then we don’t have a problem!” Hidan beamed.

“We _do_ have a problem. A major problem. You _are_ an idiot. A complete idiot,” Sasori started to stamp up the steps to work, inwardly groaning when a person in front of him began to walk slowly. “Is the imbecile paying you to bother me?”

“The imbecile?” asked Hidan. “You mean Kakuzu the pathologist?”

“Deidara the urn-maker!” barked Sasori.

“No, he’s not paying me. He doesn’t have any money,” replied Hidan. He continued to follow Sasori up the stairs, even as Sasori pointedly turned his body away from him. “So how about it then?”

Sasori groaned, wondering how long this would go on for. He wondered just how far Hidan’s bravado would go, since he thought he was brave enough to sneak into a mortuary at night. Maybe, if he couldn’t take rejection, then Sasori would have to change tactics. Maybe, he would have to call the idiot’s bluff.

“All right,” said Sasori.

Hidan startled. “What, really?”

“Really,” said Sasori drily, as he reached the top of the stairs. He stopped, and turned around just before the entrance. “My treat. Meet me out here at half five. I’ll take you on a date to a place you’ll never forget.”

“Really?” Hidan’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Sasori leant forwards, closing the gap between him and Hidan, and narrowed his eyes. He nodded. “Really.”

Hidan looked like a kid who’d been given a new toy. He leant in the air for joy. “WOOHOO!”

“Run along now,” Sasori dismissed. He turned back into the building, and began to get to work.

* * *

At half past five, as promised, Sasori re-emerged. After preparing bodies for burial all day, writing up reports and ensuring all his tasks were complete, he’d snapped off his gloves, washed his hands, and then prepared himself for his ‘date’ with the idiot. He steeled himself, readying himself to have the company of Hidan imposed on himself.

Almost immediately, Sasori spotted Hidan sitting outside the building eagerly. He perched on the wall, swinging his legs, and wearing his familiar black leather jacket with the ridiculous oversized hood. A silver pendent with an unusual inverted triangle enclosed in a circle winked from inside Hidan’s jacket.

Sasori knew that if he attempted to sit on the wall beside Hidan, his legs would not reach the ground. But Hidan’s toes brushed the concrete slabs of the pavement. He glanced up, and then waved as soon as he saw Sasori. The joy on his face was cringeworthy, and Sasori fought the urge to puke.

“Good evening, Hidan,” he replied, as he drew near to the idiot.

Hidan jumped up, and slung an arm around Sasori’s shoulders. “So, where are we going?”

“Remove your arm from my shoulders, and you’ll find out,” replied Sasori.

Hidan moved his arm away, and then skipped ahead. Sasori followed at a more leisurely pace. When Hidan realised that Sasori still walked behind him with his shorter legs, he stopped, and then waited for Sasori to catch up.

Hidan cleared his throat. “Have you ever heard of Jashinism?”

“No.”

“Would you like to hear about Jashinism?”

“No.”

Sasori led Hidan out of town, walking through the swirling falling autumn leaves, feeling his brown trench coat flapping behind him. It was the perfect time of year for what Sasori had planned, really. The grey-washed tones of the street with the onset of the autumnal rains, the brown hues that settled over the foliage, and then the steadily darkening evening that arrived sooner and sooner in the daytime, all added to the sombre and creepy atmosphere.

“Do you like spare ribs?” asked Hidan. He stretched. “Man, I love spare ribs!”

“I’m vegan.”

“Well…they have vegan spare ribs, right?”

“No,” scolded Sasori. He stopped, outside of an old two-storey Victorian house made of red brick, with a steep roof that had a small window to the attic. There were bay windows and wings of the house jutting out at various intervals.

Sasori and Hidan had stopped outside the wrought iron gates. The gates twisted in elaborate patterns, with the black paint peeling off to reveal the rusting metal beneath.

“Oooh,” stated Hidan, giving a double take. “Is this where we’re having our date?”

“Yes,” said Sasori.

Hidan stared at the house intently. “It looks like the Murder House in American Horror Story.”

“Precisely.”

Hidan grinned. “I love it!”

Sasori raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Perhaps you’d like to take a look inside.”

“Oh yeah man!” Hidan beamed. “This is the sickest date idea ever!”

“Is that a good thing?” asked Sasori, unfamiliar with the slang.

Hidan nodded eagerly.

Sasori pushed open the gate, and Hidan followed him inside. The garden path was overgrown with weeds, and the grass grew long so that it flopped over, tiredly. A decrepit apple tree sagged over on one side, still bearing poor mushy fruit. The offerings lay scattered across the ground, releasing a sickly scent that permeated the air. Sasori ignored it, continuing up the path, although he noticed Hidan wrinkle his nose.

Sasori concealed a small smile that curled on one side of his lip. It seemed that his plan was going to work perfectly.

“We’re actually going in the house?” Hidan asked, as they grew closer to the front door.

“Where else would we go?” asked Hidan.

“I thought you just meant the garden,” admitted Hidan.

The smile grew wider, but Sasori quickly pursed his lips to conceal it. He stepped up the porch, and produced a thick brass key. He slipped it in the matching lock, gave it a forceful yank, and the door creaked open. He turned back to Hidan, who had gone quiet.

“I wasn’t bluffing,” said Sasori, one hand resting on the latch to the door. “We’re going inside.”

Hidan squealed with delight.

Sasori raised an eyebrow, before leading the way in. In the hallway, he removed his brown trench coat, and hung it upon a black iron hat stand that sat propped beside the wooden panelled walls. Hidan wrapped his leather jacket more firmly around himself. A few cobwebs dangled from the ceiling, matching the silvery colour of Hidan’s hair in the weak sunlight that filtered through the glass windows.

“This place looks old,” Hidan glanced around. Sasori watched him note the features of the house, including the stained glass window built into the door they had just entered through.

“It is,” said Sasori. “It’s Victorian.”

“Real Victorian? Not just replica?”

“Real Victorian,” confirmed Sasori. He laid a hand out on the mahogany wood panelled walls, feeling the smooth veins and callouses of the wood beneath his palm. “I love old places. There’s something beautiful about them. About the way that someone long ago…made something, and that it’s still here now for us. And if it’s still there for future generations to admire, then even better.”

“How do you know all this stuff about this house?” asked Hidan.

“I come here often,” replied Sasori, making sure to keep an elusive note to his voice. “Would you care to see the living room?”

“Sure man,” Hidan followed Sasori along the hallway, nearly tripping over a vintage side table. There was a Pyrex mug with an old coffee stain balanced on top, and it wavered, worryingly. Hidan caught it, clutching it steady, as he hoped Sasori hadn’t noticed, but Sasori had already pushed open the door to the living room.

The living room had a large window draped with heavy, dust covered velvet red curtains. They were draped aside to allow a view of the front garden and the street. The dying sunlight showed an old, antique bookshelf, stuffed with old tomes, some which lay open on the floor in front. Some of the more incriminating books were about the anatomy of the human body, the history and methods of embalming, and even some books on taxidermy.

In the centre of the room, before an antique fireplace, sat a red velvet loveseat. An abandoned sketchbook lay tossed on one end of the sofa, the page ruffled and a few charcoal pencils scattered across the floor. Sasori watched Hidan glance around, before a grin spread across his lips.

“Awww, a kitty!” he cooed, bending over a cushion before the fireplace where a cat lay. “Are you sleeping, kitty?”

Hidan reached out, and trailed his fingertips along the cat’s back. But the cat did not move.

“Wait…” Hidan frowned. “Why isn’t it purring?”

“It’s dead,” replied Sasori.

Hidan removed his hand. He backed away, and began to look around the room. There wasn’t a television, or any form of modern technology in obvious view. He glanced up at the chandelier, noticing the elegant twirls of the frame and the dangling decorative crystals. In the sunlight, they let off several glints of rainbows around the room.

A few candles sat propped in tall, candle holders, dotted along the fireplace. The fireplace held a few old ashes that lay scattered across the floor. It looked as though someone had used it recently, yet it made no sense when there were no occupants.

“So creepy…” Hidan shuddered.

“That’s right,” Sasori folded his arms.

“And so cool!” Hidan beamed. “Where else can we go?”

“How about the kitchen?” suggested Sasori. He led the way, noticing that the light was growing even dimmer as the remnants of the day slipped away.

Hidan followed him, and Sasori crept along the bare wooden floorboards. He navigated the creeks with ease, eventually opening the door to the kitchen. The kitchen overlooked the back garden, showing more overgrown vegetation and wooden fencing that collapsed under the weight of the growing ivy.

In the kitchen, the worktops were bare, but for several rusted tubs that read ‘sugar’ ‘coffee’ ‘tea.’ An impressive collection of steel knives were displayed, hung up on the wall. Some were as little as Sasori’s forefinger, and others were as large as his forearm. Sasori knew very well that the largest of the collection could slice someone’s head in half, and wasn’t afraid to put it to the test if an opportunity ever arose. The silver winked at Hidan as he approached them.

“These are nice,” Hidan crept over, and ran a finger along the blade of the largest knife. His fingers caressed over the hilt, gazing at each of them in turn.

“And deadly,” added Sasori.

“That’s why they’re nice,” said Hidan.

Sasori raised an eyebrow, surprised. He opened the cupboards, and Hidan noticed various tins and cans. They looked a little more fresh than the rest of the house.

“Do people live here?” asked Hidan, turning around to face Sasori.

“Not people, no,” replied Sasori. He ushered Hidan into the next room. “This is the dining room.”

In the dining room, a collection of puppets sat gathered around an elongated table. There was a male puppet with red hair that looked a little like an older version of Sasori, another female puppet with the same grey-brown eyes as him, then a puppet with navy spiky hair and pale skin, and finally, an ugly puppet with wrinkles around his eyes and black tufts of hair.

The table was set up for a dinner party, with antique silver cutlery laid out, more pyrex plates and mugs. The puppets stared at the empty feast laid out before him, lifeless hands dangling by their sides.

“What are these?” breathed Hidan, staring.

“Puppets,” said Sasori.

“They’re _weird_ ,” Hidan whispered.

“They’re beautiful,” Sasori scolded, even as he inwardly gloated at Hidan’s slightly more disturbed reaction to the puppets. “They’re art.”

Hidan shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat, man!”

Sasori gave Hidan a strange look. He walked in a circle around the table, fingertips lovingly caressing each of the puppets in turn. On the last one, the one with the blue spiky hair, Sasori withdrew his hand and stared at the thin layer of dust he had disturbed. His brow twitched, before turning into a scowl, realising that by being so distracted by this idiot, he had slacked in his duties.

“Well,” said Sasori, deciding that once he was rid of Hidan, he would attend to them right away. “Shall we go upstairs?”

Hidan’s eyes widened. “Oh yeah.”

Sasori led the way, letting his fingers trail across the peeling wallpaper, then the wooden panelling of the hallway. His small feet daintily balanced on the first few steps of the staircase, one hand clutching the bannister for support. The bannister felt smooth and cold beneath his touch, and there were grooves of use, just like the steps below his feet. Sasori liked that, the thought that so many people had been here before and touched the places that he touched now, was a comforting one.

Hidan followed him, and Sasori was certain that Hidan’s gaze lingered upon his behind just a little too much. He turned, gave a disgruntled glare at the younger man, then quickened his pace to reach the landing.

“What are these?” asked Hidan, as he followed Sasori across the landing. The floor creaked beneath his heavier feet. Hidan leant over to look at a glass cabinet to see a variety of stuffed frogs in various poses. One clutched a violin whilst wearing a top hat and waistcoat, one sat in an armchair, others read miniature books and some were posed to dance to the music.

“Taxidermy frogs,” replied Sasori.

“Do they have names?”

“No. But you can name them if you wish.”

“I’m calling that one Kakuzu,” Hidan pointed.

“As you wish,” Sasori reached out, and pushed open the bathroom door. Hidan followed, and stared around. The bathtub dripped a single droplet every few seconds. It smelt damp, and of mildew in here. A faded curtain hung across a small window, shielding it from the view of the street. The tiles were smooth, marbled, and the sink had twisted taps in the shape of cherubs. Above the sink was a mirror, and a little ledge with a few personal effects. A toothbrush, a squeezed tub of toothpaste, even an old empty yet still decorative aftershave bottle.

“It’s a bit cold in here,” shivered Hidan.

“The window is open to air the room,” Sasori reclosed the door, and made his way further along the hallway, knowing that this was leading up to some of the nastier surprises in the house. He pushed the next door. “This is the art studio.”

“Man, an art studio? Dei has been whinging about getting one of these…” Hidan stepped in and glanced around. Sasori watched as he swallowed. Several canvases and canvas stands lay propped up against the walls. On an old antique desk, sat a cloudy glass jar of paint brushes, and beside that, lay a variety of wooden limbs. A jar contained an assortment of glass eyeballs, staring vacantly in every direction.

“This is kind of cool,” Hidan leant over, and poked one of the wooden limbs. “Man, Deidara would be green with envy!”

“Really?” asked Sasori.

“Yeah man! He loves art and crafts and stuff! But…I think there would be scorch marks on the wall,” Hidan scratched his head.

“I wouldn’t like that,” Sasori shook his head. “Well. Perhaps you’d like to take a look in the bedroom?”

“Yeah man,” Hidan breathed.

Sasori strode purposefully out of the room, and then pushed the bedroom door open. In the middle of the room lay a bed, with iron rails and drab white sheets draped across the mattress. A red throw blanket lay over the end of the bed, the tassels laying across the bare wooden floor, just about kissing an almost threadbare rug. A chest of drawers sat against the wall, with a few cufflinks and a pocket watch scattered on top.

The windows were wide, showing a clear view of the street. But resting on the window sill was a variety of torture instruments, including a knife, a pair of pliers, and a series of needles. They were the first thing that anyone who entered the room would see, as the light from the window fell upon them.

Sasori expected Hidan to scream, but Hidan’s eyes only widened with glee.

“Cool,” he grinned, bouncing over. He picked up the knife, holding it up admiringly. “Can I keep one? A souvenir?”

“No,” Sasori barked.

Disappointedly, Hidan laid it back down.

“Perhaps, you would like to look under the bed instead,” suggested Sasori.

“What’s under the bed?” asked Hidan.

Sasori gestured to beneath the mattress. “Have a look.”

Hidan knelt down, and gave a final look at Sasori. Sasori nodded, and Hidan bent his head to look.

Sasori expected the idiot to scream now, maybe leap upright and run away, or at the very least, recoil and shudder with horror. Instead, Hidan reached out, groping around under the bed, and then stood back upright.

“Can I try this?” he asked brightly, holding up a Victorian style dildo.

“ _No_ ,” Sasori snapped.

“But why not?” protested Hidan, waving it under Sasori’s nose.

“These are antique, and I don’t want your nasty ass germs all over them!” Sasori reached out and snatched it back. He slammed it down on the bedside table, beside a mechanical alarm clock and a half-read book. There was a watch, a few half-used sleeping tablet packets, and an empty glass of water crammed onto the table.

Hidan’s face suddenly went blank, as realisation began to dawn upon him. “Wait…who’s house is this?”

“ _Mine_ ,” replied Sasori.

Hidan’s eyes widened again. “This is your house? You live here?”

“Yes,” Sasori retorted.

He waited, expecting to hear Hidan’s declarations of horror and disgust at the items he possessed.

“It is so cool!” exploded Hidan. “I love it! The knives…the torture instruments…even the dead stuffed things…I want a place just like this! Please, can I stay the night?”

Sasori raised an eyebrow at Hidan’s forwardness. “I haven’t even offered you a drink.”

“I don’t need a drink, man, this place is awesome!” Hidan beamed, looking around.

Sasori glanced down. “Let me at least make you a cup of tea. We’ll sit outside.”

He led Hidan back downstairs, to the kitchen, where he heated a kettle on the stove. When the kettle steamed, he wrapped his hand in cloth, and lifted it off the stove. He poured hot water into two pyrex mugs. The water turned murky and brown, and Sasori sweetened each with sugar and almond milk. He picked up an old worn rug from beside the back door, leading Hidan out to the dying apple tree. He laid down the rug, then sat, nestling beneath the branches, gesturing Hidan to join him.

Hidan sat down, took a sip of his tea, and then to Sasori’s surprise, snuggled close to him. Sasori glanced down at the part of his arm that Hidan leant across, and realised that he hadn’t felt the urge to squirt his arm with disinfectant.

“Did you know that you’re the first person I’ve ever brought back to my house, who hasn’t been completely terrified of my home?” asked Sasori. He sipped at his tea, then glanced up at the last dregs of daylight falling over the fence.

“No,” admitted Hidan. He leant his chin against Sasori’s elbow and looked up. “Why, what happened?”

“They all freaked out and ran away. They judged me before they even got to know me.”

“That sucks, man,” Hidan shuffled further upright, and drained his tea deeply, then laid the mug to one side. Sasori didn’t even have the heart to tell him off for dumping down his pyrex mug on the muddy ground like that, and instead gazed at the rays of sunlight on the branches of the dying tree.

“I suppose it does,” admitted Sasori.

“How long have you lived here?” asked Hidan.

“Nearly all my life,” explained Sasori.

“Do you have…family?” asked Hidan.

Sasori shook his head. “A grandmother and a great-uncle. But they live in an old people home, and I don’t see them.”

“Ahh, same. No family for me,” replied Hidan. He turned back to the house, watching two ravens peck each other on top of the chimney. From where both Sasori and Hidan sat, it looked like the two birds were kissing, even if the kisses were stingy pecks of affection. “Do you like it being all Victorian and vintage?”

“Yes, I do. I love old things, didn’t I mention?” asked Sasori.

“Yes, you did,” nodded Hidan. He settled back against Sasori’s arm, leaning his chin back on his elbow, then glanced back up at Sasori. “Hey…Sasori? Gorgeous?”

“Yes?” asked Sasori, raising an eyebrow distastefully at the nickname.

“You know how I know I’m falling for you?”

“How?”

“Because your crazy, matches my crazy,” Hidan beamed, and then wrapped an arm across Sasori’s waist, holding him close.

It was weird to touch a man who was warm and alive, and not a cold body that he was preparing for burial. Sasori swallowed, then reached down, laying an arm across Hidan’s shoulders and winding his fingers through the silvery hair.

He supposed Hidan was rather sweet…in a twisted way. He could get used to having this enthusiastic idiot around. Maybe he would take Hidan to see some of his favourite creepy haunted places, and have a companion who enjoyed the daytrip, instead of one who freaked out and called him weird.

After a few moments of holding Hidan close, Hidan tilted his head back and piped up. “So…are you sure I can’t try out one of those Victorian dildos?”

Sasori sighed. “Only if I can stick it in you.”

Hidan leant up and grinned at him. “Deal.”

Sasori patted his shoulder. “All right then. _Bed_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed my first sasohida! how did I do? comments, questions, concerns, fire away! i love to hear from you, and i'm happy to accept constructive criticism as long as its polite&respectful.
> 
> also...if you like my writing and want a story written just for you, I am still offering commissions! Message me via tumblr for more details!


End file.
